


Follow Through

by ohmyflavors (hannibae)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibae/pseuds/ohmyflavors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Got a little worked up out there, huh?” The question is rhetorical, but Link’s eyes close on their own, denying him the ability to know that Rhett was reaching out, hand moving to cup over his erection. All the breath in his lungs leaves him in a rush, falling into a gasp as his eyes fly open to see the smirk on Rhett’s face. “Want some help with this?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow Through

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by GMMore [972](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=foCzM_DfwG0)

He remembers rushing off set with a nervous laugh thrown over his shoulder and a shaky hand running through his hair.

The office is far enough away that a pit settles in his stomach, knowing he has to walk all the way back there before he can really compose himself, and he works hard at not sprinting down the hall until he gets there. The idea of someone finding him like this, wanting to talk to him, is not a pleasant one.

When he gets there, the office is dark and quiet and the couch in the corner is the most appealing thing he’s seen in a long time. Lying down with his back to the door, he takes a few deep breaths and tries his best to steady himself again. On one hand, he’s mortified—he knows the issue at hand wasn’t exactly concealed during filming, and he knows people are going to notice. But on the other hand, he’s pissed because he’d _tried_ to talk them out of this. He’d done his best to say it wasn’t appropriate, it wasn’t something that they needed on their brand, but. In the end, he’d lost that battle.

And gosh, he really tried getting his mind out of that realm of thoughts, tried so hard to think about gum sticking to the bottom of his shoe, his nana naked, road kill, absolutely anything except the way the paddle was going to feel with every solid thump against his ass. He tried not to think about Rhett standing two feet away, watching it happen to him. Shit, he tried even harder not to think about watching _Rhett_ get spanked, too.

He failed miserably, and was left with this growing issue from the beginning.

The click of the door opening makes his breathing catch in his throat. He can’t deal with people right now, can’t hold a conversation about anything as long as he’s this worked up. He turns to tell whoever is coming in to go find something to do, that he’s got a headache, but it’s Rhett.

“Hey, brother, you alright?” he asks, and he’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

Link tries hard not to let his façade fall, tries a smile but feels its failure, and shrugs his shoulders. “Head hurts a little, but I’m fine. Sorry for running out of there,” he says, hoping it sounds more convincing than it feels on his tongue. He can feel himself squirming uncomfortably, keeping his back turned to Rhett, guarding himself from being seen.

Rhett doesn’t say anything for a second, but Link can hear him shuffling around the room. The sound of papers rustling is eventually what makes him look over his shoulder again, catching Rhett clearing off his desk. Link’s heart beats harder in his chest, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Come here,” Rhett says. The tone is gentle, but obviously not leaving any room for argument. Rhett’s on to him, and Link doesn’t know whether he should be more excited or scared.

What he does know is that he should get up and do as Rhett says, so he does. The way his eyes fall immediately to Link’s crotch makes him heat up all over, blush starting at his face and going all the way down. Once he’s only a breath away from Rhett, he asks, “Now what?”

“Got a little worked up out there, huh?” The question is rhetorical, but Link’s eyes close on their own, denying him the ability to know that Rhett was reaching out, hand moving to cup over his erection. All the breath in his lungs leaves him in a rush, falling into a gasp as his eyes fly open to see the smirk on Rhett’s face. “Want some help with this?”

“Rhett,” he says, voice just barely over a whisper. He knows he was heard when Rhett’s fingers squeeze over him, making him choke out a sound.  “Gosh,” he says.

“I could tell, you know,” Rhett tells him, and Link _does_ know. Everyone could tell. The energy in the room was buzzing with nervousness, and it wasn’t just his own. His cheeks heat up at the thought, and he has half a second where he wants to turn away from Rhett again, hide his head in shame. He nods instead, and the feeling of Rhett’s hand working open the button on his jeans makes him weak in the knees. “What was it that got you so flustered, Link?”

The words get stuck in his throat and refuse to budge, melting into a gasp when Rhett pulls his zipper down.

“Was it knowing we all knew? The humiliation of it?” Rhett asks, and Link shakes his head.

“That’s not— I tried to hide it—“ he starts, voice shaky and quiet, the words tumbling out of him. Rhett shushes him with a fond smile.

His fingers dip into the waistband of Link’s underwear, brushing the head of his cock for just a second. He sucks in a breath at the contact, and waits for Rhett to make the next move.

“Was it _Alex_?”

Link wrinkles his nose at that, shakes his head again and says, “Rhett, don’t—Come on, man.”

“Not Alex, then. Hmm,” Rhett teases, and his free hand comes up to cup the side of Link’s face, forcing eye contact when he says, “Must have been the paddle.”

The grin on Rhett’s face is almost enough to have Link shying away, knowing that Rhett is, on a certain level, making fun of him. But the feeling of his lips against Link’s own replaces that feeling with a heat that has nothing to do with embarrassment. It’s a dry kiss to start off with, gentle and sweet, but the feeling of his hand dipping all the way inside his underwear turns it filthy, breathes oxygen into the fire burning through Link’s entire body.

When Rhett pulls away, he murmurs, “Tell me, Link.”

He can’t. He can’t get the words out, and he presses his forehead to Rhett’s shoulder, tries to catch his breath. Fingers card through the hair at his nape, and send shivers down his spine. Taking in a deep breath, he whimpers out, “Touch me.”

“Touch you? Like this?” And his fingers are gentle, softly running down the length of his cock, still trapped in his jeans and underwear. He feels himself shaking, feels Rhett standing still, and can’t manage to suck in enough breath.

“Gosh, Rhett,” he says, hips working up to find any friction possible. They just barely come in contact with Rhett’s hips before Rhett’s pulling back with a chuckle.

“Tell me,” he insists, hand still working slowly, gently, the complete opposite of what he craves right now.

Shaking, he says, “I want—Rhett, please. I can’t.”

“If you can’t say it, you can’t have it,” Rhett tells him. “Those are the rules.”

His whole body thrums, aching, heating when Rhett tugs at the hair his fingers have been gently carding through.

“Please,” he sobs, tries one more time to seek out the pressure of Rhett’s hips, but is denied again.

“I already know what you want,” Rhett says, voice right in Link’s ear, low and sure and Link hates him a little bit for it. “I already know, Link, so there’s no reason for you to be embarrassed. Just say it, baby.”

The words rattle through him, and he chokes out a sound before the floodgates open and he’s letting out a trembling string of, “Spank me, Rhett. Please, I need it so bad. Need your hands on me, I—“

And Rhett cuts him off with a kiss, much deeper than the last, wet and hot and Link melts into it. It’s over fast, and Rhett tells him, “Take your jeans off. Underwear, too.”

He works quickly, only hesitating once when he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, head spinning. Once he’s bare in front of Rhett, wearing only shirt, he feels the nerves set in again. This feels more vulnerable than he anticipated, and it settles in the base of his stomach with a twist. As soon as Rhett’s hands are on him, the feeling dissipates, and he feels better again. The heavy ache of want settles back into him, and he’s moaning thickly at the feeling of Rhett guiding him over the edge of his desk.

This time, he’s bent farther down than he was during filming, Rhett pressing his cheek onto the cool surface of his desk. The papers have been cleared out of the way, and he adjusts his stance so he’s comfortable, the stress taken out of his knees. He’s allowed to put his hands on the desk, fingers of his right hand wrapping around his left wrist.

Rhett murmurs sweet nothings to him, fingers brushing down his back, making Link jump when they finally land on his hips, settling him into place.

“You look good like this,” Rhett tells him. Link wants to laugh at that, because he must look ridiculous, all spread out like this, cock hard and wet between his legs, bent over Rhett’s desk like a schoolboy getting ready for his punishment. “How many do you think you deserve?”

Link shrugs his shoulders, not trusting his voice, and trusting Rhett far more than he trusts himself at this moment.

“You got seven earlier,” Rhett says, more to himself than to Link. “Let’s make it an even twenty, yeah?”

He nods his head the best he can, licking his lips in anticipation. Already, he can feel his muscles jumping, feel the energy bouncing off of him. This is so much worse than before, so much more intense for obvious reasons, but at least this time, there are no cameras. His only audience is Rhett, and at the first hit, he jumps hard, a moan tumbling out of him.

There is no nervous laughter from him this time, as he lets himself enjoy this. He sinks into the pleasure of it, revels in the sting of Rhett’s bare hand coming down twice more, lets himself sigh and hiss and moan as loudly as he likes.

He can feel the flush on his skin, feel the sweat rolling down his sides already, and when he squirms, Rhett hits him again, harder this time, and tells him, “Have you been paying attention? How many was that?”

“Four,” he says immediately, because of course he was paying attention, and Rhett hums happily at the answer.

“Good boy,” he says, low and thick, and Link heats even more at the praise. The next smack comes as a surprise to him, taking him off guard, and it’s delivered with the back of Rhett’s hand this time, hard and rough. A sob chokes through him, and he subconsciously presses back for more. “So eager, Link.”

“Want it,” he breathes out, and Rhett’s hands knead at his flesh for a moment, spreading him obscenely before they’re gone again. When they return, it’s both of them, right over his already sore ass. He’ll have bruises, he knows, and he can’t wait.

Three more, fast and hard, leave him reeling, panting and writhing against Rhett’s desk. He can’t tell if the string of words he hears is coming from his own mouth or Rhett’s, but he catches bitten off words that don’t make much sense.

It must be his own voice, because Rhett shoves two fingers in his mouth, tells him, “You’re going to get us caught, baby,” laughter dancing in his voice.

The fingers stay in his mouth, and he can feel drool dripping down his chin through the next two hits. His mind works quickly to count out how many he has left, and he moans pitifully when he realizes there are only two left.

“Fuck, I bet you’d feel so good right now,” Rhett tells him, sounding just as worked up as Link. “Ass hot and red underneath me. Would you let me fuck you like this? Spread you out on my desk, ease you onto my cock?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Link nods frantically, careful not to bite down on the fingers in his mouth. He wants it, whole body aching for it, but he knows they don’t have anything here to make that possible. Instead, Rhett slips his fingers out of Link’s mouth, letting him let out the thick moan he’s been holding back, the desperate whimper of, “Please, please, please.”

“Yeah? Fuck, I know you would, baby. Gosh, you’d let me do whatever I wanted to you, wouldn’t you?” Rhett says, and Link nods again, keeps nodding, pushes his ass out for more.

Rhett’s wet hand trails down, wraps around the base of Link’s cock and shocks a gasp out of him, loud and sharp even in his own ears. He jerks him off slowly, and Link works his hips desperately into the circle of his fist, listening to the soft sounds of Rhett undoing his own pants.

The thick feeling of Rhett’s cock nestling in the crease of his ass is almost enough for him. Between the stinging he still feels, the slick, tightness of his hand around his cock, and the weight of him pressed so closely, Link is teetering on the edge. Every nerve-ending in his body is alight.

“ _Oh_ ,” he moans, and it breaks into a gasp when Rhett’s hand comes down on him again, harder than any of the others have been, and then there’s the bite of nails digging in, just for a second before he’s circling a gentle thumb over the pain of it. Link bites at his lip, tries to stave off his orgasm until he gets this last one, aching for it.

Rhett’s hips start moving, grinding his cock into him, the loose fist he has still wrapped around Link jerking him off slowly.

“One more,” Rhett tells him, and Link knows. He almost says so, almost says he’s been counting, hasn’t been focusing on anything else, can’t when all he feels is the sharp bite and sting of Rhett’s hand coming in contact with him over and over. He almost says it, but he doesn’t trust himself to talk right now, not when he’s so close to coming, when his whole body is arching into the feeling of it.

He can feel the anticipation of not knowing when Rhett is going to give him his last one, feels it jump through him, and he wants to holler, wants to beg and cry until Rhett complies, but he holds himself together. Never in his life has he wanted something so badly.

The paddle was nice, the paddle had the added bonus of momentum, a more solid hit, but this is so much better. This is intimate, personal, and he’s going to have Rhett’s handprints on him for days. Nothing has ever felt like this, has wracked through him with this much intensity, has left him almost weeping for more.

He fucking loves this, and he says as much, hearing Rhett suck in a breath when he does, feels the way he presses into him harder. He’s so close, feels the beginnings of his orgasm in his toes.

Rhett’s hand tightens around his cock, squeezes just right at the same time his other one comes down over him, a solid feeling that jolts through Link’s entire body, leaves him shouting, arching back as he comes with the feeling of it.

The feeling of Rhett’s hand coming to quickly clamp over his mouth is accompanied by a sharp laugh, the feeling of Rhett shaking, and the slick feeling of his come landing on the small of his back.

Rhett is still laughing by the time Link’s brain comes back into play and he’s left panting, practically collapsed onto the desk. His face is wet, with more than just his spit, and he can feel the sticky mess Rhett made of his back start to dry.

“What’s so funny?”

“We’re gonna get in so much trouble,” Rhett tells him, laughter falling out of him in waves. “That was so loud.”

Link blushes, but laughs along with him, realizing there’s little he can do about it now. There’s no telling if someone heard them, but Rhett’s probably right.

“We’ll think of something to tell them,” Link says, stretching his arms out in front of him, wincing at the tug of his hurt shoulder. “Get me a wipe.”

Rhett swats at his ass one more time, just a weak little pat that still has Link groaning, and he peels himself off of Link with a chuckle.

He’s still thrumming, still coming down, but the feeling of Rhett cleaning him up a little is nice, even if his back and shoulders ache from still leaning over the desk.

“Next time, we’re doing this on a bed,” Link says, standing up and stretching out. “Too old for that position.”

“Shame, because that was a good look for you,” Rhett mumbles, licking his lips and winking.  

Link cuts him eyes as he’s tugging on his jeans. “Come on. Time for damage control.”

And if Rhett spends the whole day not-so-subtly smacking Link on the ass, then he definitely deserves the pictures he receives that night of Link’s bruised ass, a deep purple handprint right on the curve with the caption, ‘Christy says hit harder next time.’


End file.
